


A Little Flight

by elenajames



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dragons, Gen, Magical Realism, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 18:02:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13082307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/elenajames
Summary: There’s a tiny claw poking out of the egg, seemingly searching the air before withdrawing.





	A Little Flight

Ivan untucks his hoodie from around the egg carefully, the textured shell warm beneath his fingers as he picks it up. He cradles it in one arm and throws the hoodie back over it for the walk to his car. Philly isn’t really cold, not yet, but he won’t take any chances. Not when the egg is this close to hatching, and the media keeps asking him if he’s noticed any cracks in the shell or any scritching from the inside. There’s nothing to show, so far, but it could start any day. 

 

Ivan settles the egg on its heating pad at home, keeping it wrapped in his hoodie. By all accounts, the more contact it gets with him and things he’s worn, the more influence his energy will have on the dragon inside, helping shape it and its personality and to help them bond once the creature is hatched. 

 

They have a day between games, so Ivan accepts the invite to Nolan and Robert’s, keeping the egg cradled on his lap as they eat dinner and game. Travis has his, too, and handles it with care. He’d only recently passed the 82 game mark and had called Ivan in a panic the first night, sure he’d fuck it up somehow. 

 

It’s halfway through one of their games that Ivan hears a scritching sound. He glances down at the egg in his lap, but there’s no movement or cracks and he turns his attention back to the TV just in time to avoid being shot. The sound comes once, twice more, but there’s still none of the movement that he’d been led to expect. Really, it’s sheer luck that he’s the odd man out when a sudden crack echoes through the room. Everyone jumps and turns to look at him, Nolan just having the presence of mind to pause the game. 

 

“Holy shit, Provs,” Travis breathes. 

 

There’s a tiny claw poking out of the egg, seemingly searching the air before withdrawing. Another crack, and a bit of the shell falls away, leaving enough room for a small snout. Ivan watches as little nostrils flare, the baby inside huffing as though annoyed. He wants to help, but every vet had told him not to, that the dragon needs to find its own way first. 

 

Slowly but surely, the dragon works its way out, using its snout and claws to push at the edges of the egg until it can push itself free of the shell. It flops awkwardly to the floor, landing on the sleeve of Ivan’s hoodie with a squeak. There’s damp clinging to its wings and scales, a scrap of membrane stuck to its tail that Ivan reaches out to pluck off before the little creature turns to hiss at him. 

“Hey,” Ivan murmurs, keeping his hand extended. Cautiously, the dragon -  _ wyvern  _ some part of his mind supplies - creeps forward, sniffing at his fingers. Ivan smiles when it extends its neck so his fingers rest on its snout, and he pets it gently with two fingertips. The tight clench of worry in his gut unfurls when the wyvern chirrups, clearly pleased and searching for more contact by nudging his hand like a needy cat. 

 

“Awesome.” Everyone chimes in agreement with Nolan, and Ivan looks up to see all four guys watching curiously. The wyvern chirrups again, butting Ivan’s hand in demand for his attention. He sets aside the now-empty shell, crossing his legs and luring his dragon into his lap. It makes itself comfortable, not unlike a cat or dog, circling around and digging at the fabric of Ivan’s hoodie before curling up in the cradle of this legs. To his surprise, it seems to go to sleep quickly, hot breaths ghosting over Ivan’s ankle. 

 

_ It’s tough work, being born _ , is all Claude has to say back when Ivan texts him out of concern.  _ Ryanne wants a pic. _

 

Snapping a photo of the sleeping creature, Ivan sends it off with a couple taps and gets a string of emojis in return, clearly Ryanne’s work and not Claude’s. Another text buzzes in as the guys finally settle back into their game, and Ivan thumbs it open.  _ Make sure to get meat. It’s going to be hungry.  _

 

There’s steak in his fridge at home, along with chicken and a bit of ground beef. He’ll need to go shopping, probably, but it will do for tonight. He sends Claude a thank you, and tries to pretend he’s paying at least a little attention to the game. 

 

Sure enough, the dragon starts whining on the way home, and the whining turns into piercing, tiny cries as Ivan cuts a portion of steak into small pieces. It eagerly snaps up the first bite he tosses it, hauling itself from the pile of the hoodie to get at the cutting board. Ivan feeds it bite by bite, petting it as he does. It growls the first couple times, but settles soon enough. 

 

“That’s good,” he praises, smiling when it purrs beneath the next stroke of his hand. The dragon doesn’t quite finish all the meat he prepared, yawning wide and curling back up on his hoodie. It falls asleep while Ivan cuts up more of the steak and tucks it away in storage containers for later. 

 

Picking it up earns Ivan a disgruntled chirp, but the dragon perks up when he carries it into his room. To Ivan’s surprise, it bounds from his arms when he gets close enough to the bed, burrowing beneath the blankets. Ivan leaves it there as he goes through his bedtime routine, sliding between the sheets and flicking the lamp off. He intends to go through his social media for a bit, phone in hand when the dragon crawls over and pulls itself up on his stomach, curling up there like a particularly cold-blooded cat. Its eyes shine back at him when Ivan peeks beneath the blanket, glowing in the dark. Dropping the blanket back down, Ivan cups the curve of the creature’s back and pets it through the fabric. A purr picks up, strong and sure despite the dragon’s size and Ivan smiles to himself.

 

* * *

 

“Easy!” Claude chides as Cheddar bounds up to Ivan’s dragon, puffing up in a show of dominance. The little drake is bigger than Ivan’s wyvern, but the wyvern hisses in return, arching its back and whipping its tail to make itself look bigger. “ _ Cheddar _ .” 

 

“Come here,” Ivan says sharply, and the wyvern gives one last hiss and scuttles back to him, giving a screech of disapproval as he picks it up and sets it on the bench beside him, where it presses into his side. “Sorry, Claude.” 

 

“Don’t be. This one knows better,” Claude says, eyeballing his dragon who has fluttered up to perch on the edge of his stall shelf. “Does he have a name yet?” 

 

“Not yet. Soon.” Ivan rubs over the crest of the dragon’s head. He’s had a few names in mind, has had for a while; really, he wanted to see the dragon for himself, first, before naming it. 

 

“Just don’t let Claude help you, eh?” Simmer chirps, stirring up a few laughs from the guys. Of course, Cheddar isn’t the worst name Ivan’s been heard; it’s not even the worst on the team, in his opinion, but he just shakes his head. 

 

“Hey, it’s not my fault. It was a joke,” Claude grumbles. “It’s not like he knows he’s cheese.” 

 

That sets off another round of laughter, and Ivan smiles to himself as he starts to get ready for skate. It takes some convincing to get his dragon to wait with the others, and Ivan gets a couple of nipped fingers for his trouble before it settles down in his stall. 

 

“Brat,” he mutters, earning a laugh from Shayne as they head out of the locker room. 

 

“They’re kinda like that at first,” Shayne reassures him. “He’ll settle down.” 

 

Ivan tries not to worry about the dragon while he’s on the ice; the others have always been fine with one of the staff keeping an eye on them. Sure enough, the wyvern is wrestling one of the many toys scattered about, tearing at it with its claws until it spots Ivan and chirrups in greeting. Determinedly, it drags the toy over to Ivan, nudging it forward with its snout and sitting back on its haunches, looking proud. A few of the guys make “aw” sounds, but Ivan just crouches down to pet the little creature. 

 

“Good job,” he murmurs, picking up the toy in one hand and the wyvern in the other, tucking the latter close. It hauls itself up his jersey, perching on his shoulder until Ivan reaches his stall. It readily pounces on the toy when Ivan puts them both down, right back to play as Ivan undresses and heads for the showers. 

 

Cheddar has crept to Ivan’s stall when he returns, the two dragons staring each other down. Slowly, Cheddar moves forward until his snout touches that of Ivan’s dragon, and he puffs a little breath in greeting. Ivan watches, tense, until his dragon responds in kind. 

 

“Well. Look at that, eh?” Claude says from behind him. Cheddar recognizes his owner’s voice, abandoning his investigation of the wyvern and its toy to wend itself around Claude’s legs, chirping loudly. The other’s follow suit, a chorus of high-pitched demands for food that gets everyone laughing. “Little ringleader. Alright, come on.” 

 

There’s a supply of prepared meat in the fridges, and, soon enough, there are dragons skittering across the floor of the lunch room, snapping bites of steak and chicken out of midair. Some pounce and eat it where they are; others will bring it back to their human counterpart before chewing it down. A few of the guys give their dragons larger pieces, letting them rip it apart themselves with their small but sharp fangs. Ivan’s wyvern sticks close, still wary of the slightly larger, older dragons in the room. It tires more quickly, as well, snubbing the last few bites from the container in favor of crawling into Ivan’s pullover pocket to sleep. 

 

Shayne takes the leftover meat, his drake snapping it up happily. “It’s special, huh?” he asks, picking up his dragon when it’s finally done. It rumbles at him, nosing at his face affectionately before scrabbling up to settle on his shoulder. 

 

“Yeah.” It is. Ivan can’t explain it, but he already feels better for the steady, uncomplicated company of the dragon. It’s comforting while also being something he can work for, for both himself and the small creature that depends on him. He looks at the little curl of tail hanging from his hoodie pocket and smiles. 

 

* * *

 

There’s a shredded running shoe in the hallway, and all Ivan can do is sigh. The other guys had warned him Nicky would go through a destructive stage, testing out teeth and claws before he’d settle back down again. Ivan had ordered toys similar to the ones that the rink stocked, specially designed to withstand the wear and tear of dragons. Unfortunately, they only seemed to hold Nicky’s attention for so long before he’d go in search of more interesting playthings. 

 

“What am I going to do with you?” he questions, putting Nicky up on his shoulder as he starts picking up remnants of the show. Nicky just gives a cry in protest, forced to cling to Ivan’s shoulder so as not to fall as they move around. He hasn’t quite managed to fly, yet; Ivan quietly hopes he won’t until after this stage has passed; he’s really not sure what he’d do if even the things above floor-level weren’t safe from Nicky’s teeth and claws. 

 

Having time with the team helps. Ronnie - Shayne’s dragon - has taken a shine to Nicky, the two of them tussling and running about enough to help burn off some of Nicky’s energy. Cheddar will tolerate Nicky’s presence, but is quick to put the little wyvern back in his place if he gets out of line. The other players tell him to let it happen after the first time Ivan tries to intervene; he’s familiar with the distress cry Nicky makes, and he’s tempted to separate them from where Cheddar has Nicky pinned to the floor. 

 

“He’s young,” Radko says softly, resting a careful hand on Ivan’s shoulder. “Young ones must learn their place.” 

 

It’s an exercise in trust, for them both; one, Ivan knows, is good for them all. Trust ties the team closer together, both on the ice and off it, so he heeds the veterans’ words. Nicky comes scuttling back to him when Cheddar finally lets him up, whining as he clambers up Ivan’s sweats.    
  
“Gotta behave, Nika.” Ivan keeps his voice low, soothing the whining as he rubs Nicky’s head. 

 

Slowly but surely, Nicky settles back into himself. He’s still young, playful, but less destructive. He follows the lead of the older dragons, deferring to them while holding his own. It’s fascinating to watch, Ivan muses. He thinks he understands, now, why this initiative is so important. He’s watched Valtteri grow closer with the team, especially Radko and Sean, because of how Paola has bonded with Alec and Sage. Ivan himself has spent more time talking with all of the guys, hanging out with them casually because the socialization - both with people and other dragons - is good for Nicky. 

 

“It’s like having any pet, I guess,” he tries explaining to Travis. Every day brings them closer to Travis’ egg hatching; he’s nervous, like Ivan was (like they all were, probably) and he keeps asking quiet questions about Nicky. “He’s always there, though. Wants to be close.” 

 

As if to prove his point, Nicky chooses that moment to burrow under the Ivan’s shirt, nose poking the underside of his chin as he settles. Travis laughs, but it’s a soft thing, the kind of laugh people reserve for kids and small animals. 

 

“You’ll love it, really. And you know the team will help.” 

 

“Yeah. I know.” Travis is curled up around his egg on the other side of Ivan’s bed, fingers running over the pitted surface. They don’t play until tomorrow, but neither had much felt like going out with another matinee game tomorrow. 

 

Nicky clambers out of Ivan’s shirt and trundles across the bed. He sniffs the egg curiously, chirruping a little as he noses at it before curling up next to it. Travis raises a curious brow at Ivan, who shrugs in return. Dragons are odd, at best; he’s learned to just roll with any behavior that doesn’t cause a problem or put Nicky in danger. He rolls his eyes when Nicky bothers Travis for pets, rumbling happily when Travis obliges. 

 

“Your dragon is going to be spoiled,” he mutters, teasing. Travis slugs him in the shoulder, but any retaliation from Ivan is interrupted when Nicky screeches in protest, only settling down when Travis pets him again. Ivan doesn’t say “I told you so” but Travis flips him off anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little AU I had in mind. I may write more (that will include shipping, most likely), but this is a oneshot for now.


End file.
